


lord hart's protégé

by lazulisong



Series: hartwin trash [2]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, M/M, Regency Romance, just plain id fic, terrible just terrible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4091056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazulisong/pseuds/lazulisong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is too old and too frightening to force to dance with infants just out of the schoolroom; he bows and makes his pretty to Lady Triffleston and moves toward Unwin. He's distracted once or twice by people greeting him, but he keeps an eye on Unwin and sees the moment when Unwin realizes that Harry is in the room and drifting toward him. The boy's head snaps up and his eyes widen. Harry's too far away to see the way his lashes flutter as he blinks rapidly -- once -- twice -- and looks around for a way to escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rageprufrock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rageprufrock/gifts), [epaulettes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/epaulettes/gifts).



> WITH THE UNDERSTANDING THAT I JUST WANTED TO WRITE THIS SCENE AND IF ANYBODY ASKS ME TO WRITE MORE I WILL SQUINT AT THEM UNTIL THEY GO AWAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Heart is not a nice man.

Harry sees him when he comes into the room -- just late enough to make it clear he's doing Lady Triffleston a favor. Unwin's standing by a potted plant, drinking a glass of negus and rotating the toe of his foot gently, as if he has been martyring himself on the altar of politeness. 

Harry is too old and too frightening to force to dance with infants just out of the schoolroom; he bows and makes his pretty to Lady Triffleston and moves toward Unwin. He's distracted once or twice by people greeting him, but he keeps an eye on Unwin and sees the moment when Unwin realizes that Harry is in the room and drifting toward him. The boy's head snaps up and his eyes widen. Harry's too far away to see the way his lashes flutter as he blinks rapidly -- once -- twice -- and looks around for a way to escape.

Harry hasn't spoken or seen him since they were in the garden with Unwin's little sister, Unwin reading to her in the soft accent he tries so hard to hide when he's out with the Quality. He doesn't want to embarrass his sponsor. Harry knows that this is Unwin's only chance to make a better life for himself and his sister. 

Little Daisy had leaned into the breast of Unwin's green superfine coat and listened as raptly as Harry had, sitting behind him so he could drink in the sight of the lad's gold hair burnished in the dappled light. Unwin had darted a shy glance at him, dark lashes lowered, and Harry had thought of waiting until Daisy slept in her brother's arms and leaning forward, capturing a kiss over her head, and stealing more kisses until Unwin sighed and yielded to him. 

Harry had kept his reserve, though, waited patiently until the nurse came for Daisy and Unwin said, apologetically, "She's all I have now," and Harry had had to crush a ruthless impulse to say "No, my dear, my very dear, not if you would --" 

Unwin had read something in Harry's eyes, though, and he had started up to his feet and said, "I -- if you will be so kind to excuse me, I must --" and fled, with a backwards look that said too clearly that Unwin was not indifferent to him, not at all. Harry picked up the book Unwin had left in his haste and pressed it against his lips, where Unwin's hands had held it.

Unwin stands his ground now, his mouth set like he's expecting a blow. "Lord Hart," he says, with a coldly correct bow. Harry wonders who's been talking to Unwin about him. Someone's been warning Unwin that Harry's going to break his heart, cast him aside. Harry's not pleased at all. An absurdity, to think he could wish to do anything but keep this beautiful creature as long as Harry was allowed to keep him. 

"Unwin," says Harry bowing in return. "I wonder, sir, if you would oblige me in this dance?"

Unwin draws in a sharp breath. Harry offers his hand, but Unwin looks away, a flush staining his face. 

"If you are tired we could simply converse," says Harry. It's a little cruel of him, to put Unwin on the spot like this: if Unwin dances with him all eyes will be on him, the little cit that Lord Hart is toying with, if they stand and talk it will be that Unwin holds his good name in so little regard as to stand with the notorious Lord Hart in a darkened corner of the room. 

Unwin lifts his head up proudly and meets Harry's eyes. "My lord," he says, his voice steady as his face is flushed, "I must ask you, as an honorable gentleman, to -- to stop this absurd pretense of favor. I am well aware, sir, that --"

"Unwin," says Harry. "Come here."

Unwin takes an unconscious step toward him and stops, like he's surprised at his own feet, and Harry takes advantage of his shock to pull him into the waltz. "Sir," he says, and Harry wants to kiss the confusion away from his face, to declare himself in this room full of people so that everybody knows never to cause Unwin a moment of doubt or discomfort again. "Please, sir, it's dreadful unfair. If you continue this way, I --"

"Good," says Harry, surprising himself with his own savagery. He pulls Unwin in closer, just a fraction nearer than strictest propriety allows, and feels Unwin's breath catch. "I must continue, sir. I have tried to control the regard I feel for you, and I have failed, and if ---" 

Unwin's face crumbles and he pulls away from Harry. "But you must not!" he says, and turns and moves away from the dance floor, leaving Harry alone among the other dancers staring at him. Harry stands still for a minute and composes himself, ignoring the whispering rising up around him, and then he moves calmly and quietly toward the direction Unwin had fled.

* * *

He finds Unwin in the conservatory, alone, although the boy had at least enough sense to stay where he was visible to passers-by. He was seated on the edge of the fountain, staring blankly into the dancing waters. There was a spray of jasmine behind him, and Harry paused long enough to look his fill at the way it curved, shining white against the dark glass windows and the dark wool of Unwin's suit. "My dear," he said softly. 

"Don't, my lord," said Unwin. "Please."

Harry comes nearer, and sinks down onto his knees, uncaring of any spectators and the effects of the cold marble on his joints. "Why not?" he says. Unwin's hands clench on his lap and Harry captures one, coaxing it open and hissing sympathetically at the nail marks. 

"I meant to find a spouse, or a patron," says Unwin. "My stepfather -- if I was married I could take my sister with me and perhaps he would let us be. But he says I should --"

Harry has a good idea of what Unwin's stepfather thought he should do, and the thought fills him with cold rage. "That's a poor reason to not marry me," he says.

"Lord Hart," says Unwin, and then, " _Harry,_ you can't marry someone like me." He swallows hard. "Even being my patron is too much. I can't."

"You can," Harry tells him, and gives in, just a little, to temptation, and softly kisses the marks scored in to Unwin's skin. "You shall."

"I mustn't," says Unwin miserably, even as he allows Harry to stand up and draw him into the shadows of the conservatory. He watches as Harry puts his lips to the sweet tender line of his wrist, and shivers in a way that makes Harry ravenous for him. "Please."

"Will you trust me?" says Harry, wrapping Unwin up in his arms and pressing his lips to the soft silk of Unwin's hair. "Darling, darling boy, just for now. Trust me."

Unwin holds himself still for a minute more and then slumps down, all tension released. "Yes, Harry," he says, and Harry allows himself one kiss before he leads Eggsy back to the light of the ball room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then Harry has Dean transported to Australia or something who the fuck knows I don't care


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's a ball, harry is a creeper, merlin is the best and roxy has harry's number

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is happening after all, what the fuck

Unwin is frightened of his stepfather, which annoys Harry deeply: Unwin should be frightened of nothing and nobody. He should always be smiling and looking at Harry like he hung the stars and the moon.

"Mr Baker is rather unpleasant," says Merlin, tapping his finger against his wine glass thoughtfully. Unwin is dancing with Miss Morton, smiling at her wide and joyous in a way that Harry supposes ought to make him jealous. As they sweep by, Unwin flashes him a smile.

Unwin knows who he belongs to. He'll come back flushed and sweet and let Harry lift his gloved hand to his mouth, and his eyelashes will flutter down and he'll pout until Harry indulges him in a dance. 

Merlin served with Harry on the Continent and saved Harry's life at least as many times as Harry saved his, which is the only reason why Harry lets him open his mouth and say, "Christ, Harry, are you actually waiting for your wedding night? I've never seen a lad so willing to be ruined."

Harry says, "Don't be an ass."

Merlin just looks at him, and Harry says, "If his stepfather caught hint of the slightest impropriety he'd take his sister away. I can't have that."

Merlin nods slowly, and then says, "Are you getting him transported, then, or are you going to drop him into the river?"

Merlin's always known Harry a little too well for comfort. "If I get him transported," says Harry, "Fifteen years from now, when Daisy comes out --"

"Hmm," says Merlin. 

Harry drops the subject, satisfied that Merlin will find a way around his difficulty. He dislikes messes even more than Harry does. 

The music ends with a flourish and Unwin and Miss Morton come up to Harry and Merlin, flushed and bright. Merlin looks at them with the benevolent expression of an old hound faced with a brace of romping puppies. 

"Lord Hart," says Unwin, and Harry allows himself the pleasure of lifting Unwin's hand to his lips after all, even though Merlin raises one eyebrow at him and Miss Morton looks uncertain if she should admire his daring or defend her friend's virtue. Unwin drops his eyes and flushes becomingly, and Harry draws in a sharper breath than he intended and lowers Unwin's hand. Soon, he promises himself. Soon.

"Shall we go to dinner?" says Merlin. "Harry, you take Miss Morton. Unwin, come sit with me, I'll tell you terrible stories about Harry and embarrass him." He adds, in Harry's ear, "For Christ's sake control yourself."

Harry _is_ controlling himself. If he wasn't controlling himself, Eggsy would already be at his table and in his bed, Harry's ring on his finger and Harry's heart publically his to do with as he pleases. Baker would be rotting on the gallows and little Daisy would be under the loving care of her brother and brother in law. 

He bows and offers his arm to Miss Morton, and follows behind Merlin and Unwin as they head to the dining room. Merlin is obviously setting out to charm Unwin, which makes Unwin look at him warily at first, and then relax into it as Merlin begins to tell a particularly terrible war story -- the one with the pig, it sounds like.

"You're fond of him," says Miss Morton suddenly. Harry looks down at her. She has surprisingly shrewd eyes for a girl her age, he thinks. "I thought it was the other way, but it's not, is it?" 

"I believe that Mr Unwin is sincerely attached to me," says Harry. "As I am to him."

"You are very proud, sir," says Miss Morton. "Too proud, I think, to coerce where you could charm."

"You are a very intelligent young lady, Miss Morton," says Harry.

* * *

Harry rewards himself for his good behavior by escorting Unwin home. He would keep his hands to himself, but in the dim light of the carriage lamps and the unsteady light of the lamp posts outside, Eggsy looks so tempting and so unkissed that Harry can't stand it any more. Eggsy goes to him with sweet ease when Harry offers his hand to help him next to him, and curls up to look at him under his lashes quite, quite distractingly.

"What a menace you are," says Harry, almost bursting with tenderness for Eggsy. He can't leave the slightest sign or hint that Eggsy allowed him any liberties, but that's quite all right. There's behind the shell of Eggsy's ear to kiss, and his glove to unbutton, and his wrist to nuzzle into and lip kisses on. Eggsy shivers deliciously and clings close. 

"Lord Hart," says Eggsy and Harry tsks at him and says, 

"None of that, darling boy, you know my name."

"Harry," says Eggsy, his eyes flashing in the dim light. Harry's delighted. Eggsy is so cross at him that Harry has to smudge a kiss to his jaw and place his teeth delicately against Eggsy's skin while Eggsy shudders, his head tilting to offer Harry more skin to kiss and nuzzle against.

"I'll call on you tomorrow," says Harry, against Eggsy's ear. "Say I can see you tomorrow."

"Yes, Harry," says Eggsy, and Harry kisses him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today at work we had fire alarms going off for nearly an hour. i work with dementia patients. imagine many confused olds having no idea what the fuck that noise was but being willing to cut several bitches to get away from it. and then spending the rest of the day wound up because of it.
> 
> yeah it was sushi-go-round night with a vengeance.

**Author's Note:**

> god forbid I update this regularly


End file.
